


raised by wolves and other beasts

by zozo



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Cohabitation, F/F, Mylvia, Pre-Femslash, Pre-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17634860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zozo/pseuds/zozo
Summary: Cdr. Burnham and Ens. Tilly's promotions come with new quarters.





	raised by wolves and other beasts

Commander Michael Burnham stepped into her new quarters. She'd never seen a senior officer's cabin on a Crossfield-class ship before; it was easily twice the size of the bunk she'd been sharing with Tilly. The doors opened into a sitting/dining area, with a separate bedroom aft and—she couldn't repress the stab of delight—her own private washroom. Communal bathing had been her reality for so long: first in prison, then sharing facilities with the cadets and _Discovery_ 's few civilian staff. The thought of all that privacy was almost intoxicating.

Her few personal effects had already been transferred: two medium sized crates and a hard-sided Starfleet duffel sat in a stack on the floor, looking meager even to Michael's minimalist eye. _I suppose I'll be able to decorate,_ she thought, another almost forgotten luxury. Discovery was going to be at Vulcan long enough for a day or two of shore leave; she resolved to take Amanda shopping in one of the open-air art markets for something interesting.

Something else was absent, though, and she couldn't quite place it. Her innate sense of order gently nudged her to start unpacking, but instead she sat down on the standard-issue loveseat and arranged herself into a not-quite-meditative pose. _I'm just restless after... well, everything,_ she reasoned. _The quarters are fine. I am fine. We are fine._

Michael was as disciplined as any Vulcan. It was no effort at all to dismiss the tiny voice from the back of her mind asking (we?)

* * *

Ensign Sylvia Tilly stepped into her new quarters. They were an expanded version of her previous bunk: two single beds again, but each had an adjacent desk, and there was a washroom, and more storage space.

She had not been assigned a roommate.

The special bedding she required had, she confirmed, been installed in both beds, so she could choose either. _Discovery_ was unlikely to pick up and recruit any more unexpected convicts, she reflected, and even if they did she wouldn't have to bunk with any of them. Having any rank whatsoever came with a tiny amount of privilege, after all.

And it's not like getting a surprise criminal roommate was likely to turn out so well _twice_. 

But of course Michael had been pardoned, and reinstated, and right now she was three decks away checking out her own new quarters. A _commander's_ quarters. Tilly was so proud of her. A housewarming gift, she decided. That's what Michael needed. Something to make her feel at home, and loved, even though they weren't roommates anymore.

* * *

Tilly stared into Starfleet Breakfast Bowl #112 with bleary, red-rimmed eyes. It was her favourite: synthesized pulled pork over spiced potatoes, with fresh pea shoots and the chef's homemade salsa, drizzled with cheese substitute. If her morning was a six, one Breakfast Bowl #112 could turn it into an eight—eight-and-a-half, if there was non-synthesized coffee to go with it.

But this morning had started a little worse than a six. Tilly hadn't slept for shit in her new bed, and she couldn't figure out why. They were home, in their own universe; the war was over; she'd been commissioned as an officer; _Discovery_ was going to be doing milk runs for the foreseeable future. Having no reason to be tossing and turning all night became one of the things keeping her up, and the vicious circle lasted until the soft chime of her morning alarm.

But when Michael sat down across from her in the mess hall, Tilly revised the morning to a six-and-a-half, minimum, because Michael! Was here! The second thing she noticed, though, was that Michael looked about as rough as she felt. There were faint circles under her eyes, and a tightness around the corners of her mouth, even as she gave Tilly a dazzling little smile of hello.

"Good morning, Ensign."

"Good morning, Commander. I hope you slept better than I did."

"I wish I did." Michael sighed. "You'd think, after everything, getting my own quarters, I'd be able to get some rest. And I rested, a bit, but I don't know if I'd say I slept. How about you?"

Tilly shook her head. "Tossed, turned, you know the drill. Or maybe you don't. I slept pretty soundly when we were roomies." Saying it like that made it seem like they lived together years back, not 24 hours ago. Tilly didn't like the sound of it.

"Mmm," said Michael. "Me too."

"What! Even when I snored?"

"Are you kidding?" Michael's lips unfolded into a gentle smile. "You were my white noise machine. When you got really revved up, I slept like a baby."

"Oh god," said Tilly. "Don't, I'm too tired to be self-conscious."

"I..." Michael trailed off, looking down into her own meal. When she spoke again, it was so low Tilly had to strain to hear her over the chatter in the mess hall. "I missed you last night."

Instantly, Tilly's hand reached out for Michael's. "Oh my god, me too. My room is bigger now and it feels so empty without you. I got home from my shift last night and I wanted to tell you all about it and I had to _comm_ you? It felt so wrong."

Michael's eyes softened even more. "I love talking to you, Tilly, but yeah. I know what you mean."

Tilly's heart was fizzing like a Bolian gin and tonic. Michael didn't think she was weird or creepy or clingy—she missed her too. She missed her too! Tilly sat there, grinning sleepily across the table at Michael, for what would probably have been an awkward amount of time with anyone else. But Michael was from Vulcan and more than comfortable with "awkward" silences, and Tilly let herself relax into the moment.

"What if—" Michael said, at the same moment Tilly blurted out, "We could—" And they laughed at each other, and Tilly's heart wouldn't stop fizzing. "Go ahead," she said. "Commanders first."

Michael, despite her tiredness, straightened up a little in her seat. "Thank you, Ensign. I was about to say that my quarters are—don't get me wrong, they're as nice as the rest of the ship, but they feel so... roomy. Too roomy. You know? The _Shenzhou_ didn't have a lot of amenities, and then, well. I guess I just got used to... closer quarters."

Tilly's eyes finally looked awake. "Yeah?"

"I'm just saying, I don't need all that space. And bunking with you was," a million-credit Michael Burnham smile, "agreeable. How would you feel about—"

"Yes! A million times yes! You don't even know—okay, I guess you do know, I missed you too, Michael, yes!"

Michael laughed, and yawned, and laughed again. "Perfect. I'll give Saru a heads up, and—do you know who's in charge of allocating ship's resources right now? I should touch base with them."

Tilly raised her free hand and waggled her fingers. "That would be me. Queen of allocating resources, at your service. And Commander Burnham, I think we could easily accommodate your request."

"I'm so pleased to hear it, Ensign Tilly." If Michael kept smiling at her like that, Tilly was going to—okay, she didn't know what, exactly, but sleep deprivation had always made her impulsive. Best to keep those impulses in check. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Bros" by Wolf Alice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TD_Q9CxXTo4).


End file.
